Compared to most Christopher Pike books, The Midnight Club offers very little in the way of traditional thrills and chills. But it does have is a lot of heart. The book is, in essence, a powerful and thought-provoking drama about death, interconnection, and what it means to be alive. It's harrowing and beautiful but not particularly spooky.

The synopsis of the plot is a bit deceptive. The Midnight Club begins at Rotterdam Home. We are introduced to a group of five young teens, all of whom suffer from terminal illnesses. To pass the time, they form a storytelling club, meeting up every night to exchange spooky tales (hence the Midnight Club title). This eventually leads them to make a pact, promising each other that whoever dies first will try his or her best to make contact from beyond the grave.

I went in expecting a supernatural tale of spooky contact from beyond the grave and this really isn't a supernatural story per se. In reality, The Midnight Club actually reaches far beyond this initial setup. Pike tells stories within the main story, crafting a beautiful and philosophical tale about life and death. But reader be warned: the supernatural is not the prominent exploration within this story.

This is a heavy read. Not a light hearted teen slasher or a safe R.L. Stine book. This is a different type of YA, written at a time, when YA was not being taken seriously: It's a philosophical, harrowing tale of companionship, suffering, and life. A must-read for young and adult readers alike.

And this is a perfect type of tale for Mike Flanagan to turn into a TV show. ( )

I'm pretty sure I've read this before...

I loved the way Pike used these kids and a great story between them to tell the mini-stories that he did. It was pretty genius. I don't think this will stay with me as long as some of the other ones I've read, but I really enjoyed my time reading this. ( )

If you’ve watched the Netflix series, don’t expect the same story in the book, though many of the book’s elements are present on screen. Also, the book’s publicised as a horror, and it most definitely isn’t that. It’s about teens coming to terms with their terminal illness. It’s profound, touching, and bittersweet, and a significant accomplishment — creating a book about death for teens that’s thought provoking. However, sometimes I felt drawn in and at others as though I was standing very much outside. I couldn’t help feeling that, if written today, it could have been so much more, and that some slight issues are terribly dated because of bigotry, which the author was clearly, and rightly, addressing. Taking these issues into consideration, the book would have been more outstanding when published than it is now, but still worth reading. ( )

interesting story that felt incomplete, with no resolution. a number of kids in hospice are part of a club that meets at midnight to tell stories, with kids dying towards the end. the reason, though, has nothing to do with the stories... ( )

This book isn't spooky; it's--the way it was written makes it clear these are teenagers who find solace in mildly creepy stories. There's little discussion of the terminal diseases of each teen. The premise of the book doesn't show up until page seventy-five of the book I was reading: that they suggest trying to contact one another in the afterlife. The first kid to die does so in chapter five, and it's indeed sad. The second is in chapter seven, and was sad in a different way. The "I belong to you" hug ritual was a little weird at first, but once the kids started dying, I understood as much as I could. On page 190 of the edition I read, Sandra's condition changes, to describe it as mild-spoiler as possible. The protagonist wonders if that's why she was never able to tell a story and...maybe, maybe not. It seems like an odd judgment to make, but I've never been in that situation. Maybe I'd say the exact same thing. Another character's end-of-life decision is discussed soon after. This was written in the 90s. It's now called Death With Dignity and was voted in Washington State, my state, in 2008. It took effect in March of 2009. Reading about it in this book written a decade earlier was--it felt so present, and still is. The book ended on such note that I wondered if I'd missed something. ( )